Sakura Climax
by Getsuga TENSHOU 15
Summary: AU: Ichigo Kurosaki and Orihime Inoue are two rival actors working on an adult movie, under the direction of Tite Kubo; upon delving into the sexual side of the movie, Orihime soon finds difficulty staying in character, causing a stir in the studio. Dun dun dun...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ichigo Kurosaki and Orihime Inoue are rival actors working on a film under the supervision of Tite Kubo. I think I'm possibly the first person to link Kubo-san into a Bleach fanfic, if not then good on whomever else thought of it, he deserves more credit on this site. If I am the first, then WOOP ^^ People may complain that it takes too long to get into, and if you think that, then please bear in mind the average number of pages for a real book is often between 20-40. This was 15 pages. I worked my ass off. So, reviews appreciated, but no complaining that it takes too long to get into, because it took a lot of effort to do.

_Anata_ is the phrase used by women to address their husbands;_ Kimi_ is husbands to wives, usually taken in the offensive way. _Asami _means _morning beauty_; _Hitomi_ means _pupil of the eye_; _Akihiko_ means _shining prince_; _Katsuo_ means _victorious child_; _Hikaru_ is a little tribute to Utada Hikaru, people may know her from _Kingdom Hearts_. _Hikaru_ means _radiance, light_, etc.

_Sakura Climax:_

さくら爆弾はクロウタドリ赤に染色  
Sakura bakudan wa kurōtadori aka ni senshoku  
_"Sakura Bombs stained the blackbirds red"_

Tite Kubo, Japan's top director and script-writer, stood central in the studio for his upcoming movie, Sakura Climax. The 35 year old shielded his deep brown eyes from the naked eye with his honey highlighted bangs sweeping across his face, and his signature blacked-out sunglasses, donning a headset over his head, typical to a man in his position; his muscled torso was barely concealed by the black polo shirt clinging to his tanned skin, baggy jeans trailing down to the floor, just hiding his black Converse, as he stood in a casual pose, his feet pointing away from the other, his body slouched, his arms crossed as he began introducing the two actors before him.

"Inoue-san, this is Kurosaki-san. Kurosaki, Inoue."

Orihime Inoue stood in her typical blasé manner, clad in her World War II attire, secretly loving the costumes picked out for her, as she had to admit to herself that half of her wardrobe was entirely similar to the outfits her new alias wore. The young actress extended her hand to shake his, forming a civil attitude towards her new colleague, hoping to form some sort of a friendship with him to make the scenes much less awkward. She knew much about Ichigo Kurosaki, a diva and a half when it came to getting his own way in the film industry, as the 23 year old glared at her, as if to broadcast his hatred in a silent manner; he sniffed, shrugging his shoulders at her feebly casual approach, turning his body towards the Director in an attempt to block the child out before him.

"Couldn't you have got someone a little older to play the part? I feel uncomfortable doing _it_ with a kid." He jerked his head in her direction in an arrogant manner, as if looking at her poisoned his eyes. Orihime gasped, pouting her lips as she scowled, crossing her arms over her chest in a distempered manner. "See? She even throws fits like a child,"  
"Kurosaki-san, I am not a child. I'm 18, and I'm a fully capable actress. Act professional, and act your age!" He shifted his gaze back to her, as the callous venom burned a strident flame within the liquid pools, his signature spiked hair the same shade as a thousand flames coursing through his hollow, brainless skull. "And furthermore, don't question Kubo-san's decision; don't dictate to him who he hires, it isn't your place." He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he did so, his tall frame casting shadows over the petite woman stood parallel to him.

"Whatever, can we just get this shit over with?" Kubo nodded, listening intently to voices echoing down his headset, holding the mic close to his lips as he muttered a reply; he raised his head, addressing the quarrelling actors before him, scowling as he held his hands up to break them apart.  
"Have you both read the script?" Orihime shifted her gaze away from her new nemesis, having heard countless insults escape his dumbass lips, flicking her curled hair in an infuriated manner; her ire clashed with her deep red lips and auburn hair, which flickered a mass of colours, each new strand a new shade of copper, gold and bronze, glimmering under the bright studio lights.

"Yes, Kubo-san."  
"No shit, how else would I know my lines?" Her eyes narrowed at his spiteful attitude, mentally finding herself slap him across the face, teaching him some basic manners, knowing in her mind that it was going to require some pretty damn good acting skills to portray her non-existent love for this man on-screen.

"Right then, remember that this scene of the movie is all about the passion, the lust, the desperation. Kurosaki, you play a soldier who's just come back from a long war, Inoue, you're his wife. It's been 6 years since you last saw each other, Inoue, you have no clue if he's alive or not, so when you see him, you panic. I want tears, can you do that?" She nodded, beaming a grin as her eyes curved up into soft arrow shapes, optimistic for the imminent events. "Kurosaki, you haven't touched a woman for 6 years, so it has to start off desperate, rushed, clumsy. As time goes by, you both start to feel a sense of comfort, have you got that?"

Both actors nodded in reply, as Orihime bounced on her spot, preparing herself mentally for the upcoming scene. She closed her eyes, taking her place on the set, as she dissolved into the atmosphere of her character, leaking the thoughts and emotions into hers, as though they were her own. She felt Kurosaki's presence disappear from off-set, slouching against his seat as he sparked a cigarette, taking a drag before blowing the billowing smoke from parted lips, watching her as he bore a grin across his smug, yet strangely handsome face. She shook her head, reciting her lines in her head, before having her mental train interrupted by the Director once more, who stood behind the cameras panning onto her, a faint trace of nerves rising in her system as if the lenses were that of a sniper rifle.

"Are you ready, Inoue?" She nodded, forming a salute before shattering the final remnants of her true personality, absorbing the character's soul into hers instantly, as she took her place at the kitchen window, facing the camera pointing at her from behind the rows of flowerpots. "3... 2... 1... Action!" She blinked once, stepping into a portal before her, as she entered a new world, her body as lightweight as a thousand bubbles supporting her in the floating air.

_I am... Asami Hikaru..._

She opened her eyes to visualize her new surroundings, absorbing her ambience as her mind pinpointed her location. It was September 1945, and the thrills of winter stood at the doorsteps of many, golden leaves showering the shattered streets of Karakura, falling from the Heavens, each blossom unique, like earthly snowflakes. Angels blessed her home, an isolated island just north of the vile conflict, heralding the skies over the beautiful cottage desolate from warfare, surrounded by a garden that stretched for miles, the entire plot of land hers and her families alone. The immeasurable fields were coloured with a variety of dazzling shades, creating a blooming atmosphere of love and joy, as the delicate sound of water trickling resounded from the distant well and shimmering ponds scattered across the vast gardens, each droplet shining like a cluster of crystals under Mother Nature's cherishing spotlight.

Outside, the sun rose gently against the cyan sky, the morning light a blissful shade of amber, leaking through the kitchen window, flitting onto the pale blue tiled flooring, bringing hope with the new gleams of weather. Microscopic particles of light shone through the high tips of the trees, bluebirds and nightingales sung their loveable lyrics as they flew sophisticatedly through their elements, as if nature was depicting an omen of the positive events to follow later that day.

Asami Hikaru stood in a daydream, her serene eyes studying the outdoor environments bursting into life, secretly proud of the garden scenery laid out before her. She was a young mother, a mere 25 years old, as she watched her children chase fluttering butterflies across the dew-dropped blades of grass, filling the air with their laughter and giggles, portraying the beauty of their youth; she was a beautiful woman, her appearance alone capable of forcing the most dead, wilted flowers into a vivacious bloom, her kind soul bringing life to the most dismal regions of Japan, as scarlet roses stretched eagerly from the ground, the purest of white lilies racing alongside them; despite the dreadful war veiling the world in a toxic storm-cloud, all blooms in her garden stood eager to feel the warm touch of the glorious sunlight, which lay on its blue cloudless canvas, scattering its golden rays across her home island.

Her body relaxed in her kitchen, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass pane, smiling at the beauteous reflection before her. Not to sound arrogant, but she knew she was beautiful, and she knew her family was just as beautiful; she stood with the finest auburn cascades angels could offer, as the delicate strands framed her defined jawline perfectly, flamed tufts clashing with her cream skin. Her doe gaze was deep-set, glimmering a number of different shades of gray and silver, as her cheeks adorned warm blushes; her slim figure caused many women to gripe with envy, as her large breasts bulged from her chest, a simple side-effect from her pregnancy 6 years ago, and nothing more. She stood in fine feather, her clothes radiant under the autumn light, as she wore a knee-length white skirt, printed with delicate blue flowers, and a matching blue sleeveless blouse, hugging her chest tightly, her slender legs finished with a pair of nude tights and low white heels.

Over her attire, she wore a flour-stained apron, as she kneaded the dough with her dainty hands, humming blithely along with the peaceful chirps of the morning songbirds resounding from the open window. She glimpsed up at her children, who sat sprawled across the grass, clearly out of breath from their game of tag, sending them an affectionate smile as they waved and grinned in sync. The twins were fraternal, ironically identical in appearance, the main features that differed being their eye shape, size and colour.

The girl had been named Hitomi, simply because of her large pupils inherited by her mother, bringing a new-found love, drawing a mother and her first-born together in a united embrace; the irises shimmered with her father's deep chocolate glaze, bordered with thick black eyelashes. Her auburn hair fell in soft ringlets around her ears, as her bangs swept across her forehead in a full fringe, au naturel waves cascading down to the small of her back; she was often the quieter out of the two, her pouted lips beautifully soft, the rose tint the same shade as the blushes that flared in her warm cheeks. Her midnight blue dress fell to her knees, decorated with a scattered cluster of white polka-dots, her white cardigan cloaking her shoulders, as long white socks travelled up to her mid-calf; her attire was grazed with moss green grass stains, a trace of sorrow glistening in her large eyes. Asami rolled her eyes, tutting, smiling wider as if to console her daughter.

Akihiko, on the other hand, was a charming young boy, the pure duplicate of his father from his youth, his rounded silver eyes inherited from his mother aside; his fiery spiked hair clashed with his lively nature, his occasional tantrum forcing Asami to smile blissfully, knowing in her heart exactly where his rebel nature had stemmed from: her dear husband, Katsuo Hikaru. Mud adorned his dimpled cheeks as he grinned, clad in a white dress shirt, knee-length gray trousers supported with brown pin-striped suspenders, and white socks cutting across the centre of his calves, similarly to his sister's. She didn't mind her children getting their clothes messy, as she knew at the end of the day they'd have to be cleaned regardless, so she'd rather they had fun in their lives whilst they had the chance. She'd feel as if she'd failed them as a mother if she was there to stop them having fun for every second of every day of their childhood.

Had she and her family lived in the city, she knew in her heart she wouldn't get a moments rest from living in fear of the incoming bombs ricocheting across the overcrowded streets; as she and her husband had moved to the quiet countryside many years before the war, she felt partially at ease: she and her children were as safe as they could be, but one lone thought haunted her conscience, the fact that her beloved was away at war. When he'd left, he'd promised to send her letters every week, and to call her every day, so that she knew he was safe, and vice versa. Overtime, his promises deteriorated, as did his calls and letters, upon which she could only pray for his safety, having had little knowledge of his whereabouts. Having lost her brother, the man who cared for her in her youth, having lost him to the war, she simply couldn't forgive herself if she ever lost the man of her dreams too.

She sighed, biting her lip as her mind became carried away with the grim thoughts of her dear husband's potential demise, discarding them to the very back of her mind. He was always the one to make stupid promises, but in the end, he'd always stuck to them regardless of how ludicrous they were. Before he'd left, he had promised to win the war, especially for her, and he'd promised that if they had lost, then he wouldn't ever return, as then he wouldn't be the man she'd fallen in love with. She wasn't particularly keen on the latter, as she had promised in the presence of God to love him for eternity, to stay by his side through thick and thin. He promised either way that he'd leave the battlefield in one piece, conscious, alive, and in full health, so that she wouldn't have to worry about his safety, even if he didn't return; regardless, her mind still held irrefutable doubts. The rumours spread across the nation like a tenacious wildfire, vicious rumours of how Japan wasn't doing so well, as word of a surrender spread across the country.

The whole concept of war was simply ridiculous, and so she didn't for one second regret keeping her children in the dark about their father's absence. Not a single word of war entered her dear children's' ears, nor was the word itself uttered remotely in the household. She may have been Japanese and proud, but this sick, sadistic war was simply out of control, and she stood neutral in the battlefield, a small fragment of her mind loathing her country for their twisted sense of justice, another fraction her husband for his betrayal. She would constantly remind herself that he had no choice in the matter, and that the decision to head off to war wasn't his, hell, he wasn't even a soldier; he was a decent man, a doctor, a man who saved lives, not take them away from the so-called enemies.

Honestly, did the government not understand that the British had families too? Regardless of who started the war, and when, the thought of world peace sunk deeper into her mind, burying to the depths of impossibility, as she saw the childishness of the world's governments. Her own children were far more mature than these world leaders, mere 6 year olds beating each and every one of these grown adults on intelligence scales.

Besides, wasn't each country fighting for the same reason? For self-preservation? For so-called honour? For the reputation of their mother-land? Each army, the Nazis, the Communists, the British, the Japanese, the Americans, each and every one of them held the same goal, the same morals, all that stood different was the colour of their skin, and the design of their flag. All nations, citizens and armies stood as mindless puppets under the control of the world leaders; all soldiers had families that they could never return to, and held lives that could never be the same again.

She frowned at the hypocrites, shaking her head as she concentrated her focus on the thin dough now rolled out and ready to be cut. She searched through her drawers for a cookie cutter, filling the air as she hummed a nursery rhyme flawlessly in a sweet, soothing tone, blissfully unaware of her _visitor_ lurking at her door-step.

Through the walls, he could hear her saccharine voice alluring him into a deep trance, the same voice which was once amplified by the winged messengers visiting him each day in the trenches, fuelling him the de rigueur strength to fight another day. He was once a soldier imprisoned on the battlefield, despite his insisting that he was a pacifist, a conscientious objector, locked away for life in the blistering deserts of death; the scolding heat shrouding No Man's Land inflicted pain unimaginable to man, as lethal viruses spread across the trenches, barbed wire slitting deep into limbs, as the thorns ensnared the burning flesh of the weaker subordinates.

The iniquity, the sins shrouding the world in the form of thick black mists ricocheted pain across the globe, wiping out the dissolute followers of God, showing no mercy on the commiserable mortals. The years were no doubt the bloodiest years Japan had seen, as a storm-cloud spread fear and anguish across the planet, annihilating any traces of goodwill from recognition. Viruses descended from the deepest pits of Hell, as God merely watched, judging his prisoners in their earthly cages. The ash and embers lambent in the darkness, igniting the blackouts with its quivering light source, as bomb after bomb, bullet after bullet, cracked through skulls, skeletons, consuming life in an abysmal avarice of hatred.

The horrors of war had buried deep into his mind, as the bloodlust crept over him with each lonely second spent blanketed by the savage environments; he hadn't started off as a soldier, he was a mere child, his recent years being brought up in the midst of violence, anarchy and bloodlust brainwashed into their minds; each day upon returning to the haven of his trench, he'd lift the visor of his gas mask, and smear the blood of the enemies across his brutal lips, adorning his pallid cheeks as though it was his camouflage, pure infernos blazing within his liquid gaze.

Over the past 6 years, he had become certain that had he not had a home, a wife, and two beautiful children to return to, he would never in a million years be stood here on his doorstep, free from the horrors of war, liberty his to grasp with eager hands. He was no longer the brutal warrior he had been turned into, he knew that in his mind, but his hands already began to crave the cold callous metal touch of his gun lost from his palms. His hands had grown up cradling the guns in his killer embrace, shattering the lives of the innocent with the bullet projectiles streaming through the air, with a loathfully ironic sense of grace.

Gas canisters would erupt, spitting fire, as did his heart, burst in despair countless times upon visualizing his dear wife and children shedding tears over his demise, as he glimpsed into the eyes of the British; his sanity fractured into minute shards, his mentality askew with a new sense of honour clouding over him, as though able to enter their minds with a mere glance into their soul-less, hollow eyes. _Thousands of lifetimes, thousands of men; but what was achieved, but bloodshed again... And again?_

He could hear her singing, his guardian, his wife, his dear Asami, visualizing her halo form around her glossy hair, as the amber sunlight leaked in through the window, casting rays of seraphic light to protrude from the shy goddess standing before him, as though emphasizing her immortal beauty, her radiant elegance forever frozen in time. Invisible wings fluttered down her back, each inch of her flesh gleaming with perfection, closing his eyes against the sheer proximity of the restful spirit, warming him with her soothing songs. He stood glued to his spot, his muscular biceps flexing as he gripped on tight to his bag filled with his old change of clothes, his mind contemplating on whether or not he should knock. He didn't even want to be here, he knew he wouldn't be welcome, he knew she wouldn't love him for the monster he'd become. The callous environment of war had fed him nothing but violence and murder for 6 years, brainwashing him into this bloodthirsty warrior. What made him a good man? A good husband? A good father? Even his appearance had been altered, as the once lanky man now stood tall and broad, as his barbaric muscles threatened to tear through his shirt each time he breathed.

No matter what he did, he'd be breaking a promise. Japan had lost the war, and he'd vowed to his chaste wife that he wouldn't return, had that happened. Yet still, here he stood; something led him home, as he wandered the war-torn streets of Japan, the damage inflicted on his countrymen enough to send him crazy; the paranoid whispers echoed around the destroyed streets, as his name turned into hollow screams, begging for mercy, shattering his conscious into a million fractured shards, slitting deep into his wounded flesh. Were his efforts, his murders; was his brainwashing really for nothing? Some beacon of light guided him through the dark streets, as the mists clouded his vision, rendering him blind under the Heavens, steering the ex-soldier home to his wife and children long awaiting his return.

He gulped, swallowing his fears as his throat shifted under the new pressure. His appearance had changed too much, so how could he be so certain that she'd still remember who he was? How could he be so sure that she'd still love him for the man he'd become in his absence? He held his breath, raising his free hand, clenching his fist to knock against the coffee painted door, startling himself as his knuckle collided with nothing but air, shifting his gaze upwards as he heard the click of the handle open a split second before he could knock; he cursed himself as he saw his wife's wild eyes distraught and pained from his appearance, catching only a mere glimpse of her visage before she slammed the door shut in his face.

Asami slouched against the front door, glancing up towards the grandfather clock positioned in the corner parallel to her, counting the seconds, taking heavy, erratic breaths as she sunk into the wooden barricade behind her. Her heart almost jumped from her skin as she felt the faint vibrate ricochet throughout the wooden grains, as her long lost husband began to knock desperately. She held her breath in her constricted lungs, flushing as she felt the knocks decelerate, her heart overwhelming with a strident guilt. Her sobs echoed through the shield wall, as he pressed his forehead against it, sighing as though unable to hold up his determination, through fear of harming or intimidating his dear love.

"Asami, please... It's Katsuo..."  
_I know..._

She held her breath at his words, rising her head a few inches, meeting the heartfelt gaze of the affectionate man through the distorted glass; her face lingered in the patterned glass, as the anguish leaked from her expressions, flowing straight into his mind, and nowhere else. Her trembling hand pressed against the glass, as his eyes took note of her features, the absence of her wedding ring attracting his attention the most. Her features hadn't once changed over the past 6 years, her eyes gleaming with youth just as they had all those years ago when they had first met; the cupid's bow of her lips linked together in an unbearably seductive curve, causing him to groan mentally, sinking his hand against hers as though reforming their bond once more. The sincerity in his gaze seemed all too real, as her daze clouded over with an undeniable trace of lust.

"Open the door, Asami,"

She flushed, shaking herself out of her daydream as she unlocked the door, closing it behind her with a click shattering through the silent air. She stood inches before him, unable to breathe in awe of his presence; her body began to move of its own accord, as she became unable to restrain her indomitable hands from cupping his face, her fingertips relishing in the feel of the auburn silked spikes scattered across his temple, cutting past his ears in an eager spread. His defined jawline seemed all the more distinct than she last remembered, as she melted against his chest, constructed from warm and throbbing muscle. His eyebrows furrowed into a perplexed state, as the chocolate gaze clouded with a drizzled honey effect, rendering his masculine charm, the same as she had fallen in love with, all those years ago; a thousand sakura blossoms swirled around them in the form of an elemental whirlpool, as she stole a glimpse into his mind, knowing in hers exactly what he wanted her to do.

"Anata... Katsuo... You're back?" Tears rose in her system, stinging her eyes with the cyanidic liquid, as she slammed her lids shut, sobbing under the stone chokehold rising in her hoarse throat. "You're home, Katsuo..."  
"Kimi..." He tutted softly, dropping his bag to the ground, wrapping his arms around his wife in a protective embrace; he sent chills down her spine as he breathed warm air against her pulsating temple, burying himself in the deep scent of a thousand sakura blossoms, arising from her hair. His husky voice was stronger in comparison to the man he once was, and she was certain he seemed a lot more arrogant than before, as though his mind was making up for the fruitless honour lost on the battlefield.

"Katsuo, I've told you before, don't call me _Kimi_, it's demeaning." He smirked at her stubborn nature, consoling himself in the new-found knowledge that his wife hadn't once changed over the past decade. "Katsuo... I... I love you, don't ever leave me again, promise me!" His gaze swept over with a thick tint of his gentle nature, taking his wife into a deeper embrace, nuzzling the tender contours of his dear wife's neck with his passionate kisses.

"I can't promise anything, Asami. Not to you, or to the kids. I love you all, and that's the only thing I can say for sure. Anything else, I'll only break if I promise," She sobbed against his chest, watching the droplets be absorbed by the stretched white cotton of his shirt, whimpering under the pain of a thousand knives plunging straight into her barely beating heart.

"Katsuo, don't speak like that. I know you, you can promise anything, and deliver it in time. The kids have their lives again, now that you're back." She lifted her head to meet his gaze, gazing into the deep pools of lust, certain her vision was clouded by her stained tears. "_I_ have my life back. We all do. The war's over, and I don't care whether we won or lost. My husband is home, and he's alive, and that's all that matters. Please, you don't need to fall any further into darkness than you already have done; you have your family to love you."

"I don't deserve your love, Asami. Look at these hands, they're the hands of a murderer, they've _slaughtered_ people. Why is it you can't understand that?" He spat the venomous words, penetrating deep into her heart as he held his clenched hands out for her to see. She held back her sobs, standing on her tip-toes to match his staggering height, as her hand slid down his neck, relishing in the touch of the warm muscle beneath her fingertips. Her lips quivered as she swallowed her doubts, tracing them against his cheek, startling him down to his very heart.

He shook his head, pressing his forehead against hers, shadowing her face with a thousand vines of malice, as though wishing to scare her, to do anything to get her to see the real him. His hands ran over her hips, absorbing her attire as he held her firmly against his body, feeling selfish for keeping her to himself over the past 6 years. Even now, he wanted her so badly, he didn't want to let another man lay eyes on her for a mere second, yet he knew in his heart he didn't deserve to claim the pure, virtuous soul, or to even call her his. His eyes took note of her cream coat covering her body, raising his eyebrows as if to question her attire. She breathed silently, as though ashamed of her sudden actions.

"I... I was going to go to the shops,"  
"Is it urgent?"  
"N-Not exactly,"

He startled her by capturing her breath in a silk-smooth kiss, brushing his thumbs across her shoulders buried deep under her clothes, drifting his tongue against the curves of her lips, moaning softly as she refused entrance; he parted their bond, closing his eyes as he breathed below her ear, nibbling the lobe softly, sending jolts of pleasure through her system.  
"Where are the twins?" His words sounded directly down her ear, forcing her to flinch, her dazed state numbing her mind as she became lost in the reverie thought of his implications.

"They've gone out to play with their friends," She bit her lip, cursing herself mentally for giving him the answer his inner deviant craved.  
"So we have the house to ourselves? For how long?"  
"I told them to be home for dinner at 6," He lifted his gaze, sweeping his intricately laced eyes across her clouded face, blushes blazing under her skin like a chaotic flame. "Katsu- oh!" He swept his arms under her legs, buckling her knees into his embrace, holding her bridal style as his passionate gaze drifted deep into his wife's, shadowing a lifetime of pain in a mere glimpse of his deep chocolate eyes.

"Katsuo, don't be silly, let me go," He bit his lip, remaining silent as he tightened his grip around her derriere with one hand, clutching his other palm around the handle, stepping into the house with a swift stride, letting the door slam shut, locking it instantly so that he could return his hand to support his wife's body against his. She peered up at her husband, sensing something off about the man embracing her, knowing in her heart that he had changed somewhat since she'd met him. His morals were still the same, his priorities and aspirations in life, but the young princely child was now lost in the ravenous depths of this callous man, unable to, unwilling to, reflect any emotion from his core but hatred, vengeance, envy and lust.

He held his head low, breathing heavily through shame, burying his gaze deep under the thick strands of his spiked bangs, his complexion stained with a thousand blushes blazing in his cheeks. It had been a long time since he'd stepped foot in his house, as he glanced around, attempting to navigate his way towards the hearth of the warm cottage, the comforting room he remembered to be reliable and permanent whenever he wanted his pain to be consoled by the dear goddess he loved.

She breathed softly, craving his passionate nature to come out for the first time in 6 years, flickering her eyes shut as if to concentrate on the rhythmic beating of his heart, buried deep under his muscular flesh, resounding through her ears. His sore lips couldn't offer a single word of thanks or acknowledgment, as he merely edged forward towards the staircase, taking each step one at a time as he clambered the beautifully carpeted stairs at a leisurely pace, through fear he might trip and damage his goddess.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he turned swiftly to the first door on the right, his breaths overpowering hers, as a thick shadow clouded over the serene hallway, beckoning the lustrous events to arise earlier than had been planned. He entered their room, surprisingly warm as the new atmosphere blasted him in the face, as the enticing breeze swept from the open window, positioned on the wall parallel to where they stood, billowing the short cream curtains, which were laced intricately with a gold crosshatching effect. The walls were papered with a beautiful vanilla white shade, as golden vines bloomed into flowers in each corner of the four walls, the cherry brown wooden floor pined and varnished to perfection, covered with a cream rug stretching under the bed.

Everything had been kept so beautiful, preserved to perfection as Asami wanted every tiny scrap or memory of her husband to stay alive, regardless of how long he may have been absent. He blanked their surroundings, carrying her in an amorous embrace, his rugged arms cradling her in a clouded mist of passion. For a split second, she glanced up into his eyes, feeling the cool material of her silked bed sheets beneath her, swearing on her soul that she saw a glimpse of love, something real, something sincere, something impossible to feign even by under the greatest masquerade, as she allowed her body to relax, her trembling hands guiding her husband onto the bed with her.

"Katsuo~" Her saccharine voice sung heavenly, as she tilted her head back, beckoning his lips forth towards her pulsing neck, her breaths soft, her moans forming gracefully, as they escaped her pouted lips. "I missed you," The words struck his heart like a violent bolt ricocheting from a tempest sky, his hands trembling as he lifted his head, gazing softly into her eyes, glimpsing into the silver liquid pools of lust adorning her irises, smiling at the delicate blushes rising in her cheeks. "I love you," He gulped away his conscience, as she studied his expressions clouding his masqued face, as though the three simple words were lethal pellets lodged in his throat, causing a spluttered man to swallow his love. He felt his body melt away under the winged grace leaking from the angel before him; the curved shape of her deep-set eyes reflected her innocent traits, as her eyebrows creased, bewildered to her core as she watched the scarred man stutter his replies.

"I love you too," Her naïvety spread like a wildfire, igniting the bedroom into a bed of strident flames, dazed out of her mind to understand his reluctance to admit his emotions. He couldn't help his eyes trace over her figure, his hands eliminating the coat blocking his path, following suite after, noting the smooth contours of her body standing out clear for him to see, as the curves became amplified under the thin royal blue fabric of her blouse; his eyes sketched past the delicate curves of her neck, relishing in the ambrosial fragrance arousing from her porcelain skin, cupping her ample breasts in a soft embrace. Her Everest chest was larger than any he had ever seen, not that he'd ever contemplated the desire of looking at any other's than hers, as he felt her pulse increase upon contact of his massaging fingertips stroking the apex beneath the flimsy material.

She closed her eyes, holding back each moan that threatened to rise in her hoarse throat, her heart beating faster to fill her lungs with the de rigueur Oxygen escaping her system; her breaths became heavy with each delicate stroke, unable to hold back her whimpers as his hands began to undo the stream of buttons meandering down her front, taking his time at each milestone, going tantalizingly slow as if to torture her all the more. Her hands clutched hold of the sheets beneath her, chanting her husband's name in a blissfully ignorant trance, blushing as the liquid heat rose in the pit of her stomach.

His face lingered inches away from hers, as his cocoa gaze swept across hers, the honey glaze burning stronger as though penetrating her soul in an affectionate daze. She tilted her head to the side, as her petalled lips quivered against his, capturing his sanity, which shattered into sharp shards of glass, scattering over them like blossoms blanketing the ground with cherry pink petals. Her mind turned blank, as though all of her thoughts became lost in a hypnotic daze, captivated by this man's flawless charm. His face edged all the more closer to hers, as his warm breath trailed down her neck, shooting jolts of pleasure to surge through her body.

Skin pressed against his cheeks, an odd mixture of both warmth and ice, casting blushes across his tanned face; her skin was as smooth as silk, as light as a feather, as electric sparks shattered through his veins at an alarming rate, her body beginning to tremble under the shock of the events before her, her core temperature rising like a flare emitted into the silent atmosphere; the heat of a thousand bonfires engulfed their mouths in a slick form, as fireworks shattered the peaceful ambience, burning bright in the desolate sky, their lips colliding with the same heat as a thousand meteors showering over them intimately.

He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head closer towards his as he stole her heart with a mere touch. Her wild eyes were buried under her rose dusted lids, the contact of his flesh against hers alluring her to her very core, as he captured her soul in a breath-taking kiss; her heart stalled in her constricted chest, as she blushed against him, parting her lips to find his tongue sweep in within an instant, the satin flesh exploring the deep caverns of her mouth desperately, as though certain he'd never get the opportunity ever again. His tongue danced with hers, battling for control of the kiss, as his hands trailed down towards her chest, tearing her shirt open to view her torso to the full extent, exposing the flat plane of her stomach beckoning him towards her ornately designed skirt.

He slowly ran his forefinger down the exposed flesh, circling her navel in a torturous manner, journeying around the contoured regions of her nape, down towards the cascades of her mountainous breasts, burying under the hem of her navy blue skirt, each new pressure striking lightning-level volts against her bare skin. Despite holding his eyes shut whilst kissing her, his hands found every weak point her body could sexually offer, as she fell into a deep state of ecstasy, releasing her build-up of moans threatening to dominate her body, had she not let them escape.

His lips were the softest she had ever known, pouting with disbelief as he parted the kiss, his lips locking onto his new target, grazing his teeth against her neck and sternum; the valley between her breasts made a good hiding place for his tongue, as he brushed the pulsing flesh, gripping hold of her dusty rose bra in a tight grasp, tugging against it to spill her breasts into view, holding his eyes on hers as though treasuring the goddess. He tugged off her blouse, coiling his hands around her back for the clip, finding it with ease. With a simple flick of his wrist, the click resounded throughout the air, forcing groans to escape her lips, unable to hold her obvious indulgence.

Each word planned out to utter disintegrated into a soft moan, squirming under his warm touch, as her core spiked in temperature, turning sensitive and moist, much to her dismay. A hand rose up the insides of her thigh, spreading flames along every inch of flesh he touched, igniting the moaned droplets to ricochet throughout his mind. Her ecstatic state was clearly a sign of enjoyment, as he ran his palms under her raised skirt, not once allowing his body to hesitate as he came closer to her liquid hearth. She parted her thighs further astride his legs, as he crossed her underwear, lightly massaging his fingers across the creases, finding her apex within an instant, as it bulged faintly from her core, beckoning him to come forward and taste her. He took her apex between two fingertips, tweaking it, brushing it, twisting it, performing any motion to draw out her intense cries of pleasure.

The liquid heat pooled more across the pit of her stomach, as she felt a sudden proximity shatter her personal space, the mint aroma of her lover pleasing her numb senses; she felt a cool fabric slowly slide down over the contours of her thighs, blushing as the cold air hit her nerves, forcing a pouted moan to escape into the atmosphere. His cheeks brushed her thighs, parting then further to earn better access, as she stuttered a shy reply, her words incoherent and jumbled through slick pants, which overpowered her logical thought-train.

He chuckled faintly under his breath, brushing his forehead against her pelvis mound, capturing her core in a mind-numbing kiss, relishing in the faintest traces of honeysuckle lingering within the warm hearth. He performed a simple test run, flicking his tongue out against her lower apex, smirking as her cries shattered through the air. Her raspy breaths echoed throughout the room, as she lifted her head by an inch, savouring in the feel of his warm, husky breath against her core, moaning upon sight of his buoyant head beneath her skirt, rippling the fabric in faint waves.

The flames coursing through her veins was enough to ignite her body into a bed of dynamic embers, fuelling her desire with the pure energy spiking within her heart; her body convulsed, waves of pleasure gushing over her, each drop as real and refreshing as a splash from the soothing ocean. This was a form of pleasure she'd imagined to be long since lost, alongside her husband, as she'd sworn on her life that in the scenario in which her beloved passed away, she wouldn't allow herself to fall for any other man. The shock of the pleasure triggered doubts in her mind, as she obscured her reality checks, pinching the skin of her thigh to reassure herself, praying to God that she wasn't dreaming. The sequence was too vivid, her vision too clear, both the pain and pleasure too real for this to be a mere dream, as she blinked away her tears, whispering her lover's name, encouraging him to continue his actions, a request he was all too willing to comply with.

_Kurosaki-san!_

Her back arched against the satin contact of his flickering tongue, her breasts lurching forward as she propped herself up, supporting her body with her forearms, shattering the atmosphere with her tainted cries; her sounds ricocheted across the Earth's shielded layers, reaching the furthest corners of the planet, as she held her breath upon hearing low growls tear from her partner's lips, his throat thrumming against her flesh similarly to a lupined soul on the hunt. It took her a few moments to realize that they weren't his sounds, but in fact _his_... _Kurosaki…_

"CUT!"

Her faux pas ambience shattered instantly, as she squinted, blinded by studio lights, her true soul returning to her hollow shell, her blushes flaring, as she covered her chest from the stage crew's view.

"God dammit, can you not stay in character for 5 freaking minutes?!" Her hurt gaze drifted away from her fictitious lover, hovering a few inches above the shiny black lino composing the studio floor, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her body with the cameras and stares glaring at her.

_Huh? Did I do something wrong?_ She pouted, voicing her doubts, causing a stir within the studio, as she glanced around, noting the Director sigh and hold his head in his hands.

"Look, it's a common problem for new actors in this field, it doesn't matter, just carry on, and we'll edit it out."  
"Uh... But Kubo-san, what was it I did wrong?"  
"Just remember the character's name is _Katsuo_, okay?" She blinked, unsure of what he was implying, merely nodding and gulping in reply, as she took a deep breath, preparing herself to become her character once more, laying down against the bed in an attempt to do so. Ichigo lowered his head, brushing his strands of hair across her thighs, drawing unintentional moans from her lips, squirming at the warm breaths against her nerves, her body feeling suddenly at unease in his presence. Her hands relaxed at her sides, as her chest rose and fell against the air, uncharacteristic thoughts flooding into her mind.

'You both ready?" Orihime bit her lip, knowing in her mind she wasn't, as she nodded for the sake of everyone's patience, in hope she'd limit the hatred she knew was coursing through her colleagues veins at that exact moment. "3... 2... 1... Action!"

The cameras circled overhead similarly to vultures shadowing their prey, as his actions began once more, delicate strokes of his tongue shattering her resolve in a matter of seconds; she lay uncomfortably, her anxiety rising deep within her, struggling to dissolve into her role as all manner of qualms and worries clouded her mind, numbing her reactions instantaneously. The anaesthetic of his touch delving deep within her core suspended her breathing, as she bit her lip, broadcasting her pleading angst; he continued to caress her with a cherishing pressure, which became amplified to the thousandth degree under the persistent panic ploughing through her narrowed veins, praying to God for someone to stop filming for a brief second. She knew in her heart this wasn't Kurosaki, and she cursed herself for desiring it to be so, as a thousand volts splintered through her rationality, biting her tongue each time his name rose in her throat, restraining her body from having its way.

She battled against her libido, driving it back to its imprisonment in the farthest depths of her mind, imploring her reason to see sense from the situation, praying for salvation of any sort; many hollow prayers later, her efforts were in vain, as the pressure only strengthened, her coarse throat whimpering as she came close to her climax, biting her lip to silence her useless cries. She raised her head against the smirked lips brushing across the insides of her thighs, gulping as she felt his hands slide the skirt away from obstruction, startling her by his sudden proximity, shadowing her body with his arms. He rocked her gently, trailing his tongue along her temple, tracing her neck as he listened to her pulse with keen ears; she stuttered a moan, shaking her head as the amorous couple knelt upright together, locked in a warm embrace.

She damned herself for it, but she knew there was no way getting back into her character now, as she glimpsed into his clouded gaze, praying for some trait of Kurosaki to leak through; she barely even knew him, or even why she wanted to have _him_ be the one to make love to her, but the lust was driving her insane, disregarding the script as she improvised her own feelings, stitching them to her lips, wearing her heart on her absent sleeve, praying to God he couldn't read the true meanings behind them.

His lips drifted across the bridge of her nose, mumbling sentimental words against her skin, as she absorbed each syllable into her heart, closing her eyes in tandem with her deep breaths. Her hands began to work of their own accord, skating across the burly plane of his chest with as much eloquence as a glider, taking pleasure in the contrast of both smooth and toned elements shaping his body, skimming the lower hem of his shirt in an attempt to lift the trying hindrance. As though reading her mind, a smirk crept across his hazy face, her conscious searching for some form of clarity, watching him tug the shirt over his head, discarded it to the side with a swift flick of his wrist, taking her firm chest into his willing grasp, beckoning her against the bed in a sharp motion.

"Katsu-"  
"You're impossibly beautiful, Asami," His chest heaved against hers in their passionate tangle, his warm breaths inching down her sloped neck, drawing her moans out fortuitously, an act that only encouraged his advances. "I love you more than anything, let me prove this to you," Her breath became lodged in her throat, combing the vast terrains of her mind for the right words.

"Katsuo…" She breathed softly, blowing out her fears, blanking the environments around her. "You make me feel something I've never felt before… I remember the first time that we met, the first time that we hugged, kissed, the first time you told me you loved me… Nothing compares to the love I felt when you came back, nothing compares to the love I have for you now, knowing that I'll never be alone again," A commotion started on the opposite side of the room, as the Director held his hand up, silencing the crew as he listened to her straying from the script. "People told me that I'd only ever fall in love once, but I don't believe them; every time I see your face, every time I hear your voice, I fall in love with you all over again." She watched his eyes cloud over with an unfamiliar emotion, bewilderment, but with a heavy mist, shrouded with a sense of toil, as he scrambled around in his mind, narrowing his gaze as if to question her motives.

"You don't need to prove anything to me, Katsuo; I love you with everything I have, I trust you," He regained his composure, navigating himself back on track with the help of the right words; his thin lips curved up into a sincere smile, lunging deep into her heart with his heartfelt reaction, as he buried his coarse tongue against her neck, nestling the sleek curves of her décolletage. His teeth grazed across her skin, as low growls oscillated from his husky throat, his hands fumbling away at the buckle clasping his belt together, unfastening the button and zip from the khaki trousers, hurling them aside with a sense of urgency, determined to waste no more time straying away from his beloved's yearnings, knowing for himself the agony his cravings had caused him in his enforced absence.

He removed the final blockade, discarding the fabric to the side before steadying himself, making swift contact with the burning lust glazed across her guileless gaze, studying her quivering lips gleam rose under the light, pleading against his taunts. Her eyes glimpsed towards his exposed element, her torso writhing as her rouged blushes begged him to stop, her mind certain that an object of _that_ magnitude could never possibly fit within her dainty physique. He replied with a simple smile, followed by a harsh thrust, penetrating her core with a great force, drawing her moans out to combat the serene air; her exposed flesh ignited with pure cinders, curling and dancing through the atmosphere, pirouetting and settling around them, similarly to the blossoms scattering from their branches outside their window left ajar. He leaned forward, assaulting her lip with his tongue, requesting entrance as he rested his body align with hers, the contours of their bodies patching together seamlessly, as though they were matching pieces, fashioned for one another's indefinitely.

His face hovered inches above hers, casting bleak shadows across her reddened cheeks, flaring with chagrin as she watched the actor take the sole traces of purity remaining in her mind, body and soul, all for the sake of her career; she breathed silently, feeling the crux of her sanity degenerate with each movement ascending from the inane man, her consciences battling over right and wrong, knowing deep in her heart that this was definitely one of her rasher impulsive decisions she'd made in her life; his name rose in her throat persistently, as though her inner demons were relentless to make her look a fool, as the pace steadied, his bristly groans resounding along her flesh, impaling her heart with the sheer resonance, ricocheting throughout her mind forevermore. She closed her eyes against the rhythmic sonata, her pouted lips occasionally leaking a soft moan into the score, eluding the thoughts of love and lust from her psyche, her dazed state mesmerized by the irrefutable pleasure surging its way through her bloodstream.

Her thighs lay astride his hips, allowing more force into his shifts to become absorbed by her joints, amplifying the pressure driven deep within her, as each plunge shattered her resolve into minute splinters of her cupidity; her lungs became besieged by her breaths evading their duty, her blissful sighs masking the heavens with their entrancing melody, enticing angels to fall, wilting feathers shedding over the atmosphere, as pillared flames scattered from their sphere, dispersing across the hollow afternoon sky.

Her sighs evolved into crescendo'ed moans, as the unsought words broke free from their fleshy prison, her unruly lips trembling against the name echoing everlastingly through the air, forcing her eyes to burst open, the discomfiture of her position burying deep into her essence; she jolted upright, shying her face away from the view of her audience, slinking her hands under her arms as she covered her chest, her ears pinned back, awaiting the criticisms to arise.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Kubo-san,"  
"You know, I think we've filmed enough for today; maybe if you take a break, you'll find it easier to slip back into character, Inoue."

She nodded, veiling her face from the studio's view, turning her body away from their visual path, as she slipped into the robe laid out for her at the side of the set, covering her exposed flesh in a quick swipe of her hands, embracing her body with her insecure state of mind, failing to hold back the sobs that threatened to slope up within her throat. A single tear fell from her cheek, splattering across the studio floor, shattering into a thousand daughter droplets, as the sound became augmented by the sheer silence shrouding the studio in her abashed ambience; she blacked out the world that she knew with her own realm, a kingdom forlorn, lost from the grouped coterie shrouding her with their mere concern, her heart praying for it to either be a dream, or to be forgotten by the next day.

_Fuck_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Long story short, in the very beginning, I was told to scrap this story, because people felt it was too good blahblahblah etc. I'll admit it was one of my better pieces, and they did have my best interests in mind, but what can I say? I broke a promise to the person who asked me to write no more, and I'm putting it back out there, especially for you guys. What with the reviews, follows, favourites, guys, I love you all :)**

**If it's more lemons you want, you are more than welcome to skip this chapter, it holds no meaning, it's basically Orihime's typical whinings, so I will hold no grudge if you want to skip to chapter 3, which should be done in a few weeks. This is poorly wrotened (I'm a writer, I make up words to suit me!), and overwhelmingly cheesy, holds no real relevance to the plot. It's a sad, lonely filler that no one likes.**

**Worth it to mention, Tatsuki is merged with Rangiku, so yus she's HIGHLY out of character.**

**Read on!**

_**Le Flashback from Chapter 1:**_

_**Her sighs evolved into crescendo'ed moans, as the unsought words broke free from their fleshy prison, her unruly lips trembling against the name echoing everlastingly through the air, forcing her eyes to burst open, the discomfiture of her position burying deep within her essence; she jolted upright, shying her face away from the view of her audience, slinking her hands under her arms as she covered her chest, her ears pinned back, awaiting the criticisms to arise.**_

_**"I'm... I'm sorry, Kubo-san,"**_

_**"You know, I think we've filmed enough for today; maybe if you take a break, you'll find it easier to slip back into character, Inoue."**_

_**She nodded, veiling her face from the studio's view, turning her body away from their visual path, as she slipped into the robe laid out for her at the side of the set, covering her exposed flesh in a quick swipe of her hands, embracing her body with her insecure state of mind, failing to hold back the sobs that threatened to slope up within her throat. A single tear fell from her cheek, splattering across the studio floor, shattering into a thousand daughter droplets, as the sound became augmented by the sheer silence shrouding the studio in her abashed ambience; she blacked out the world that she knew with her own realm, a kingdom forlon, lost from the grouped coterie shrouding her with their mere concen, her heart praying for it to either be a dream, or to be forgotten by the next day.**_

_**Fuck.**_

_Stupid Kurosaki-san. Stupid me. Why the hell did I have to do this?_

Orihime Inoue lingered within the bounds of her haven, squirming against her perched seat over the cream tinted sofa, her mind lost in a daze as she peered through the glass panes of her hearth, shadowing the city of Tokyo at her feet. The strength of her sanity was constantly tested against the furious rain casting hollow melancholia across the bustling city, lights flickering against the darkness, as her wild daze caught a glimpse of the businessmen and women groaning upon being captured under the relentless liquid bullets drenching them on their journeys home; hammerings of the crystal crafted projectiles pierced through the parted heavens in the slick form of a wintery tempest, the bleak mercilessness of the weather shattering the souls of many through the city's crestfallen spirit. Mere hours had passed since the tragic calamity heralding her mind's focus, as her inner demons formed a tenacious attempt to ridicule her with their mocking reminiscences of what she'd once prayed to be an easily forgettable mistake.

Upon arriving back at the hotel she'd booked prior to the start of filming, her limp body immersed in the shame shivered against the soothing atmosphere, trudging through the once elegant lobby as the trail of rain followed shortly behind her, shadowing her movements similarly to a bride's veil; her delicate nose scrunched up against the powerful waft of cinnamon pourpier assaulting her senses, rendering her disorientated state under the exquisite aromas of rich spiced apple, delicate traces of vanilla, and other distant ambrosial spices her mind had been far too dazed to comprehend. She'd sniffled against the air, closing her eyes against the poisonous aroma laced against the air, scarlet vines entangling around her slim figure, lifting her through the gloom, intoxicating her with the sheer numb sensations of the strident fragrances clashed against one another, as though someone had been making a commiserable attempt of bringing class to weary tourists.

Tugging her arms across her body, she breathed out a deep sigh, relishing in the warmth of her bruised heart pumping the crimson streams through her fluttered body, content with the momentary escape from the Hell of that god-forsaken, arrogant man, and the haunting memories of her first day at work. Catching a swift glimpse against the reflective tiles fixed precisely against the floor, she pouted against her visage casted by the watery imposter, knowing in her heart that she'd seen better days, as thin sprawls of hair had plastered across her ivory skin, hardly doing her confidence any favours when it came to her unfortunately natural pale complexion. Flamed locks darkened in chaotic cascades, the embers preserved in a forever blazing state as they challenged the doused droplets coiling across her deep auburn vines, weeping toxic tears from the sharp strands showering across her trembling profile.

Without a doubt, she knew that the partially older woman perched over the till, studying her with an icy glare, saw right through the irony of someone so anti-graceful pacing through the ornate foyer, although with her chest jutted out under the low-cut blouse, the receptionist was hardly in the position to question her status; after all, the hotel was reserved for the wealthier citizens with a desire for a short break from their typically noble duties, or affluent tourists obsessed with throwing their earnings around as if they were expendable items; even with a hinted name of Ori-_hime_, even with the presence of a princess within her being, she felt out of place in her new environments. With a weak smile, she'd crossed the room, closing the distance between her and the scowling woman called _Loly_, as was found scrawled across her name-badge, who stood slouched with a shameless demeanor, clad in a sleeveless white blouse and a short black skirt slicing across her mid-thigh, eradicating any sense of grace she'd ever considered the hotel to have had.

Through the harsh snaps and subtle taunts directed towards her in a degrading sneered tone, she'd eventually escaped the bitter woman's path, having somehow successfully signed in and having been given the key to her room, her mind too distant to sense the middle finger flipped up against the air, slashing across from the receptionist's hand, who cursed her as she turned her figure away; glimpsing down at the gilded fob clutched in her trembling palm, her finger traced the figures with a feather-light touch, diverting the engravings to her memory as she slipped away into her own world, stepping towards the lift, counting the moments until the soft ding penetrated the air, signalling the elevator's arrival. Wearily stepping forward, she stationed her body within the box constructed of fine, shimmering glass, savouring the sudden blast of wind fanning out over her figure, breathing delicate shadows to stalk across the smooth planes of her bare shoulders; she captured a minimal glimpse of her refracted mirage hosted against the mirror beaded intricately with the liquid essence, born in clusters of her warming proximity.

Her tee formed a curve just shy of her breast line, an unfortunate shade of wafer-thin white soaked to a translucent form, clinging against the sly curves of her torso, her flesh ablaze through the drenched fabric crushing against her. Her platinum gaze met the distinct outline of her cleavage barely concealed from the human eye, her brows folding under as she swiftly regained the self-consciousness of her callow persona, feeling all the more convinced of her rash choices- she was definitely too young to be allowing herself to be this tied up so early on in her life. Her eager blushes glowing against the ghostly reflection of her cheeks, shattering the resolve of her heart only convinced her all the more of this theory, as her naivety ruptured the air on a sheer reminiscence of his tender caresses, the callous confinement of her heart within its fleshy cage, the groans that aroused in their entanglement, his sly smirks urging tenacious whispers, delicate sounds echoing as they'd been born from his parted lips, so infant, so gentle, all too convincing for her mind to believe it was a simple act. No actor could have been that adept in portraying false lies of the heart, blooming tales of passion severed within a split second of the camera turning away, a lust choked by the wilting tips of a deep, feverish venom intoxicating her, as nothing but hatred aroused against him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she felt a faint sparkle descend in the darkness, bared teeth snuck up with disturbingly jagged edges, as she turned swiftly on her heels, her raspy breaths resounding against the elevator walls, the heralding daze casting a rapture over her fumbling heart, startled by the presence of an unseen lurker. The young man shadowing the corner behind her lunged forward, grasping out a firm hand against her shoulder as his cubed teeth broke through from an eager smile. She shuddered at the thought of his distorted smirk, as his bitter tongue swept through the hollow voids, introducing himself with his free hand lurched outward; judging by his familiar uniform, he was evidently a member of staff, but he didn't half give her the creeps, especially with the stark contrast of his vacant onyx irises merged against his hidden pupils, rendering it impossible to judge whether they even existed to begin with.

Upon being _"escorted"_ to her assigned room- if that's what you'd call an eerily silent ride, with an uncanny gaze watching your every muscle movement- she'd felt a surge of relief from exiting the elevator, walking as swiftly as she could away from the hell box, knowing it was a futile attempt of an escape as she sensed the man follow her through the corridor, deciding to keep herself distracted as she began counting the numbers of the rooms flitting by, stopping as she came across a matching figure as embossed against her key; the fine oak door had been sanded to perfection, with a deep tinge of cherry brown stained against the grains, adorned with a golden oblong plate drilled at a precise angle, hovering just shy of her eye-level, as with the other doors she'd gone by on that floor.

She noted the unruly proximity brushing past her shoulders, her spine shivering against the vulgarity of his tone with each syllable weaved against his lisped speech, a casted cry of greed rupturing the air, as an eager palm laid out flat before her, as though expecting a reward all for stalking her journey. Had every other guest in the hotel's history been so incapable in finding their own way to an escalator, lifting their arms and pressing a button to the appropriate floor? It hardly required effort or intelligence, but with the way the staff acted, it appeared as if they were highly experienced in dealing with clients with the memory capacity of a goldfish. With a simple frown, she'd slammed the door in his face once making a note of his name badge, leaving the young blonde named _Di Roy_ to curse under his breath, and turn swiftly on his heel, all remnants of his dignity shattered against yet another rejection.

Her fingers found the lock of the door just south of the gilded handle, twisting it to an angle until the sharp click resounded throughout the air, allowing her to blow out the sighs accumlated within her weary system, relishing in the consolation of a warm embrace entwined around her body upon entering her suite, knowing straight in her heart the first thing she'd have to do now that she'd gained some peace and quiet. Over the period of 3 hours or so, she'd swiftly lost count in the number of showers she'd taken, scrubbing away at her tainted flesh as she stationed her limp body under the path of the dispersed crystals soothing her aching limbs, the vicious motions tinting her skin a pale red all resulting as a fruitless attempt to cleanse her body from her sins, sickened to the pit of her stomach at her rash decisions.

Even now, as she rose from the leather upholstery beneath her bare thighs, preparing herself for yet another meaningless cleansing ritual, she bit against her lip as she almost drew blood, deeply regretting her decision of working in the adult industry so early in her acting career; she was still a young woman, she'd only just turned 18, she held the rest of her life ahead of her, and yet here she was, making a name for herself as a slut so early on. The concerns of her best friend rose in the back of her throat, as Orihime found herself cursing the slackened memories reawakening under the mortification of the day's events, her mind retching as she lurched forward, grasping air to steady herself against the taunting vision of how idiotic she must have looked, crying out the wrong name not only once, but twice, despite all of her best efforts to silence her demons. She sighed, no doubt in her heart that her body simply wasn't ready for the vast jump in her career; before this, she'd been working as the protagonist of her own TV series, forming an ever-growing fan base amongst family audiences due to her moving performances of her characters. To mothers and daughters, she was the icon of natural beauty, an inspiration for females everywhere to step out and embrace their inner blooms of self-value, and a comical character sustaining the charm of a thousand moons, heralding elegance through the night sky.

To add on to all of that, she held her own cookery show, and had earned a living from the number of books she'd released through her sheer creativity, sketching images so precise with her poetic words polished across the paged, swiftly gaining popularity for her lighthearted, witty approach to overcoming the struggles of her lifetime. She'd even on countless occasions found herself flooded with model agencies demanding her to do some shoots with them, eventually catching the eye of a number of directors urging her to see the golden opportunities of the film industry, all of which she'd declined, stating simply that it would distract her from her main focus of work. For someone as young as her, she'd come considerably far in life considering her degrading childhood haunting her every progression, and she'd always dreamed of becoming a movie star as a young girl, but to think that her first movie would practically be a sex tape began to shock her to the very core.

At the time of the offer, she'd simply shrugged it off as within the norm, unable to see the reason behind her dear friend's arguments, dumbfounded by their attempts to steer her away from the thought of becoming an actress in the adult industry; honestly, the way they'd reacted almost seemed as if they expected her to run off to Tokyo to become a prostitute of some sort, a simply ludicrous thought on her part- it was a film aimed at an adult audience, which just so happened to involve sex scenes linked into the story line. It wasn't aimed at some mindless, horny teenage boy looking for a clip to have a quick one over, it held meaning, compassion, romance. She was becoming a whole new person, with a story of love to share with the world, which required a flawless ability to perform, not a plastic body to lure men into a deep trance of unbreakable lust. She'd pouted her lips against their pleads, crossing her arms across her chest as she protested her case, reminding her friend that she was a fully mature adult, a grown woman capable of making her own choices.

Glimpsing back, in the essence of it, that's all she practically was- she'd sold her body for a vast audience to see, people she never even knew existed would be ogling her naked body, as she found herself debating which nightmare would inflict the greater pain: the thought of that so-called man saving the image of her au naturel figure in the rather more perverse sections of his mind, or the stalkers shadowing her every move, labelling her as the truth of what she was, forever smirking for private reasons each time they heard her name echo out against the newspapers, magazines, television or radio, forever recalling her body to the vacant motel rooms of their mind.

It wasn't as though she was a virgin before this, a fact she had to admit relieved a little of the strident shame casting murky stormclouds over the city, as she wasn't a pure child, desperately shying their innocent gaze away from the sexual sides of life, a fresh bud amongst the mature roses, shedding scarlet tears as they guarded their essence with slick, sharp thorns. It wasn't as if she was at risk of any unwanted consequences, so to put it, following her firm input to keeping her body protected during these situations, refusing to miss a single pill after the nightly events of her teen years; even more than any of this, she felt in safe hands with Tite Kubo, thoroughly honoured that someone as respectable as him would practically beg her agent to arrange an audition, something she'd always felt ever so confused about. Surely, shouldn't it have been the other way round? Being fresh to the film industry, she had little experience as to how it all worked, but she was certain that it was rare for a director to outright state that he wanted you to take the starring role, though she'd simply shrugged the abnormality off at the time, due to the overwhelming euphoria surging through her veins, exhilarated upon the thought of being blessed with the knowledge that she was finally making it somewhere in life.

Upon finally gathering the strength to drag her feet against the faux fur rug holstered under her stature, she shook against the air, yanked out of her delicate dream-world by the augmented instrumental of her phone ringing against the air, her zombie-like state passive as it shattered away to oblivion, her body rushing to its call in an anguished manner; without the need of Caller-ID, nor the requirement to ask for a name, she instantly knew the of impatient huff cutting down the handset awaiting her on the other side, as she'd set her friends individual ringtones to save her the stress of guessing or offending voices, each melody approved by each recipient beforehand, of course. Her body arched over the sofa in an unsophisticated manner, her rear pleasing the air with its divine touch, her hand fumbling around clumsily for her cell stationed against the far table, barely peaking within her reach. For her best friend, Tatsuki Arisawa, she'd appointed her ringtone as _Kung Fu Fighting_ by _Carl Douglas_, due to her status as a professional martial arts sensei, a terrible pun on her part, but a shared pun between distant, beloved friends nonetheless.

"Tatsuki-chan! I'm so glad to hear your voice, it's been so long since we last saw each other, and I- "

"Okay, woah, speed demon, slow down," Orihime swallowed thickly against her dear friend's loving tone, smiling warmly as she felt a sudden burst of light overwhelm her, casting the adoration of her motherly voice over her yearning soul, her heart all but glowing with a distinct glorified manner at the light chuckles melting through the handset. "I sorta remembered that it was your first day today, so I wanted to check up with you, and... Apologize again for how I reacted," Orihime pouted against the glum sighs stirring within her friend's system, chewing against her lower lip as she attempted to arrange her words in an orderly formation. "I'm sorry, Orihime, it's your life, I should have stopped treating it like mine a long time ago,"

Silence struck the air, rumbling through the rippling discomfort of the awkward call; the sensation was simply unknown between the two friends, as regardless of the situations they'd been through together, they'd remained side by side, hand in hand, marching towards the darkness taunting them, sustaining their survival with an eager conversation each day to distract them from the harsh environments of their everyday life. The climb had always been pushing, but they knew one another inside and out, faced the world with their headstrong tenacity, and never once when the other slipped, casting out a loving hand whenever the other needed it to regain their minds on the midst of their forsaken elements. Never once had supporting something as simple as a phone call caused so much stress and input on either party's behalf, rendering her heart to all but suffocate under the callous distance between the two's stations.

"So, how is everything? What's it like knowing you're a film star now? Is everyone treating you right? I swear to god, if there's anyone who's not... How's Ichi-kun?"

The persistence in her questions drew out the shallow sighs building within her chest, her consciences battling indefinitely- she couldn't _lie _to her best friend, but the truth didn't seem like that great of an option either; knowing Tatsuki, she'd insist in Orihime coming home, probably drag her out herself should she refuse, and dropping out at the first hurdle was like an athlete working all that hard to get to their battleground, just to surrender and state they were afraid of heights. Dropping out now meant that everything she'd sacrificed was a meaningless cause, and she was certain word would spread round like a wildfire of her how unprofessional she'd acted, in what was certainly considerably less than her first 24 hour working period. If she were to drop out so soon, there'd be no telling what Kubo-san could pass on to the other directors. If it only affected her film career, that wouldn't have mattered to much, as her female audiences watching her on TV and reading her books held priority, but it wouldn't be the only thing severely damaged, everything was linked as one, everything would suffer. And it would be for the sake of sheer lust for the man she despised more than anything.

"Ichi-_kun_? Since when are you two so close?" She instantly cursed herself for the bitterness laced in her voice, drawing her tone back to eradicate any traces of interest from her words.

"We trained together at the same dojo as kids, I beat his ass every lesson," The line grew silent as though she'd begun smirking, glimpsing back at a blissful memory, evidently satisfying the hidden sadistic portions of her mind. "I guess it was that reason more than anything why I tried to hold you back; I found out through a friend that he was working on the film, and with his looks, why wouldn't he be the main lead? I know him, Orihime, I know things not even his agent or the media full-stop knows, and I didn't want him to hurt you,"

"Tatsuki-chan... That's so kind of you, thank you, but you already taught me everything you know; if you could defeat him without fail, then I'm pretty sure I could take him on,"

A choked splutter of laughs sounded down the cell, causing Orihime to frown, tapping her forefinger against her softly parted lips, failing to detect what she had said that was seemingly hilarious.

"Orihime, are you kidding me? I beat him as a kid, yeah, but even if me and my entire class took him on these days, he'd beat us to a pulp! Have you even seen him yet? The guy has brawn in those abs!"

"I've seen some parts of him today, guess I must have missed the muscles," She bit her lip against the lie flowing from the tip of her tongue, praying for a miracle, some way to withdraw her implications.

"Oh god, did they make you have sex on the _first day_?"

"Tatsuki! That's a very blunt way to put it!" Secreting her shrugs through the safety of a few kilometres, the latter smirked, abandoning her work as she leant over the kitchen island, propping her elbows against the cool surface as she gripped the phone eagerly, urging her shy friend for an answer with a simple hum.

"I... Guess..."

"Orihime, there's no guessing about it, it's either he snuck it in or not; did you do it?" Her throat began to strain against the unsought pressure bestowed upon her, as fair tears rose in the fiery cavern, delicate droplets of pain threatening to break through the barrier of her dusty peach lids clamped shut, soothing the sorrow alight in her heart.

"Tatsuki, this isn't making me feel any better about what and who I've done, and I'd really appreciate it if we just..." She held her breath, her body turning sluggish against her constricted chest gripping hold of her heart in an unbearably confined grasp.

"Has he hurt you, Orihime?"

"N-No! I just feel terrible about it all, I mean, you were right..." She froze in her position, ducking her head against the cushioned back of the sofa, taking deep breaths as she awaited her scorns or punishment, failing that an arrogant tale of I told you so at the very least. After an elongated pause of sobbing, she raised her voice through the undoubtedly audible sniffles directed down the headset clutched in a weary grasp. "Tatsuki-chan, I'm scared, and I know I wasn't ready for any of this... B-But I wanted it all so much, I made a stupid decision,.and now I... Tatsuki, I can't get out," Her whines grew louder as she seeped against the makeshift shoulder of her friend's absent hold, her throat eliciting sounds that she was certain would cause any passersby to conclude visions in their minds, circulating around the theme of a perverse nature.

"Orihime... You know, sometimes it's okay for us to make mistakes, so that we base all future decisions from our past experiences; you took a huge step in your career, and for that, I'm proud of you. People can claim that they'd be okay doing what you do, but when it comes down to it, they'd chicken out way earlier than this. You tried something out of your comfort zone, and that's pretty bold, Orihime, it takes severe guts. If there's anyone I know who is strong enough to do this, it's you."

"Tatsuki..." Her flushed cheeks peeled away from the leather fabrics of the sofa, igniting a delicate tearing sound within the atmosphere, her flesh warming under the assuring words of her best friend.

"And if he starts bothering you, promise me you'll let me know; I might not be successful, but I'll damn well try to take him down, hell, I'll even bring Chad along if I have to," She stifled the faintest laugh as subtle as she could possibly achieve, sighing as her limp body collapsed against the sofa, laying flat over her stomach as her legs flung out against the air in a schoolgirl manner, awaiting the gossip from the recent hours.

"I really care about your, Orihime, don't let yourself get hurt, okay?" She bobbed her head in response, humming down the headset positively as she wiped the remainders of her tears from her glassy eyes, her bloodshot gaze shimmering under the sudden flow of optimism catering her desire.

"What's new with you? Any child prodigies arrived at your doorstep yet?"

"Fair share of talent going around, but nothing unusual for their age; still, that's what I'm for, I guess. It's my job to teach them new skills, and overtime, I train them up into little fighters," Her smiles hit the air as she remembered the expressions of glee masking the faces of the youths attending her dojo each week, the innocence slowly fading as they formed a balance between friendship and undeterred rivalry, the verbal counter-blasts stemming from their blithe voices each time two opponents met in the circle oh so familiar to her mind, as was each and every child's unique determination to grasp victory in their keen, petite, hands.

"So, how are things with you and Renji?" Orihime immediately regretted the question, biting down again her lip as she closed her eyes against the ruptured silence, sensing some intimate details heading her way, following the recent honeymoon of Tatsuki Arisawa and Renji Abarai. By her own free will, Tatsuki had decided to keep her surname, commenting countless names that Abarai was a name fit for a baboon, sternly refusing to soil her name with his ludicrous surname; after all, too many of her friends referred to her as Arisawa, rendering it useless to stir up an undesirable confusion amongst the group, in addition to her dojo itself being called Arisawa Dojo; Abarai Dojo simply didn't have the same ring to it, much to her dear husband's thorough dismay, as he swiftly learnt who exactly wore the trousers in their relationship.

"The man has endurance, I'll give him that, _un-be-liev-a-ble_ stamina," Her lips faded into a curve upon placing de rigueur emphasis on the precise syllables, feeling traces of her friend's callow blushes blaze through the night, burning the provided fuel brighter than the North Star, rupturing the darkness with the French rose tinge of her feigned innocence. "Is Ichi-kun any good in the sack?"

"Tatsuki, we're not even dating!"

"So? You've still done the business, so tell me what he's like!" She groaned against her friends blunt vulgarity, using her free hand to massage her temple with a tender touch of her fingertips, padding a delicate touch as she attempted to soothe her overwhelming headaches.

"I... I don't know, it all happened so fast for me to remember,"

"So he's one who likes it fast, huh? You've just given the finest detail a girl could ask for!" She sprung her body upright, scrambling her position as she heard a swift knock resound from the opposite side of the hotel door, her lips emitting a sharp squeak as gravity took control, her body collapsing go the ground in a tumbled heap.

"What?! No! I didn't mean it like that! I just meant that it was all a blur, and I don't recall all that much," She shifted the cell under her opposite ear, using her hands to lift herself up, her palms sprawled across the coffee table stationed before her as she steadied her figure, breathing out a sigh of relief before continuing her trail to the door.

"Uh huh, sure; Orihime, we've been friends for how long, now? One, I know when you're lying, two, even if I couldn't, how could you sleep with someone that hot, and not give a damn?" She continued balancing the phone under her hear, locking it in place with the use of her tilted shoulder, oblivious to logic as her hand grasped hold of the brass door knob by routine, not stopping for a split second to consider her location.

"Tatsuki, it's not like that, I swear; I did it for the job, no real feeling was in it, I don't like him that way, he's an absolute, outright jerk, and to be perfectly honest, I hate him," She flung the door open in a distempered manner, cursing herself for allowing her tongue to steal swift control of her mind's thoughts, blasting them out as though she'd held a megaphone in her grasp. Her gaze flicked upward for a single second, wild orbs growing wide upon catching sight of the flickers shadowing the hallway, her stray daze capturing he smirked facade of the chocolate pools heralding liquid desire, his sheer proximity numbing her senses to a grating degree.

"Who's an outright jerk?"

_Double fuck._

**A/N: N'aw you read through it :D That was way too cheesy -_- Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ah, promised lemons. I am so freaking sorry for the cliffhanger though T_T forgive me? Pretty please? Oh and... -blush- This chapter came out... Um a whole lot kinkier than I planned! Huge thanks to DeathBerry1995, your comments really helped me out, to anyone whose work I have read over the past many months to try and spark my inspiration, to my dear boyfriend (we recently had our 4th anniversary :D) who helps me as always to write lemons, and to anyone and everyone who reviewed and followed!

**_Le Flashback from Chapter 2:_**

**_"Uh huh, sure; Orihime, we've been friends for how long, now? One, I know when you're lying, two, even if I couldn't, how could you sleep with someone that hot, and not give a damn?" She continued balancing the phone under her ear, locking it in place with the use of her tilted shoulder, oblivious to logic as her hand grasped hold of the brass door knob by routine, not stopping for a split second to consider her location._**

**_"Tatsuki, I did it for the job, no real feeling was in it, I don't like him that way, he's an absolute, outright jerk, and to be perfectly honest, I hate him," She flung the door open in a distempered manner, cursing herself for allowing her tongue to steal swift control of her mind's thoughts, blasting them out as though she'd held a megaphone in her grasp. Her gaze flicked upward for a single second, wild orbs growing wide upon catching sight of the flickers shadowing the hallway, her stray daze capturing he smirked facade of the chocolate pools heralding liquid desire, his sheer proximity numbing her senses to a grating degree._**

**_"Who's an outright jerk?"_**

**_Double fuck._**

Orihime stood stunned for a moment, her jaw lounged south as her mouth lay agape, no words satisfying the inner depths of her mind. She flashed through possibilities suitable to utter towards combating the ridiculous sight stood before her. Was this a joke? Had he followed her about? Regardless of the situation, chills took over her spine, ricocheting creeps rumbling across her numb daze, causing her palms to tremble in place. Her eyes refused to lock against his, nor glimpse at a single feature upon his being, as though fatal poison lurked in the depths of his feline gaze. With the absence of her vision secured behind a fixed clasp of her dainty hand, her other senses became amplified through the process. Powerful fragrances laced the air, fragrances she recognized distinct to his being, the same scents she'd previously picked up having had his body shoved against hers earlier that day. The musk vines turned strong in a lingered format, traces of delicate mint and fruits shrouding his flesh. His natural scent seemed heavily clouded with a heavy linger of aftershave, sickening her stomach as her nostrils flared inwards, coughing against his pitiful attempts to match aromas. His spikes bled rain from the tips of each strand, his sarcastic demeanor burying deep within her soul, lurking in the murkiest depths of her heart, skipping beats as though all but ashamed of the faint arousal growing within her.

"Tatsuki, I'm gonna have to call you back?" Ichigo lifted his eyebrows at the name, his mouth curving up into an arrogant smirk as he absorbed the trembles of his colleague; in a panic, her hand grasping the handle quivered and lurched forward to slam the door, her plan to shut out the man swiftly failing as he kicked his foot forward with perfect timing. He lodged his heavy armoured boot between the door and its frame, the steel-toe caps pushed onward, aligned with his smirks adorning his cheeks, the rebellious soul successful in sustaining an arrogant ambience in his sudden actions.

"The infamous Arisawa? I'll have to get back in touch with her one of these days, see how the karate is going; I heard she's running her own dojo now, mind if I get her number from you?" Orihime swallowed against her fear accumulating within her throat, cursing the tears forming in her eyes, knowing there was no way to win when it came to comparing one another's physical strength; she eased her grip around the door knob as she flinched away in pain, surrendering the battle with a coward's retreat.

"I... Uh... Kurosaki-san, what the hell are you doing here? No, more to the point, how the hell did you know where I'd be? What do you want from me? Don't you think you've done enough for today?" Her words became caught in her throat overtime, her sobs shadowing the relentless liquid shards heralding over the city as she shied her face away from his path.

"What? You think I'd stalk you around Tokyo, just to rub it in your face that you fucked up?"

"Well... Yes?" She leant forward against the sofa, slouching her figure as her back fell into a delicate arch, her chest rising and falling with her hidden profile.

"I'm staying at the hotel, and when I was signing in, I saw an all too familiar name scrawled in the box above mine. A little flirting here and there, quick mention of names, and the receptionist told me what room you were in. What luck I happen to be right next door, eh?"

Her flushed whines danced against the air, her spine severed under the sound of the lock being turned slowly by his broad hand, followed by a series of footsteps clipping against the floor. His carnal breaths stung her flesh as they travelled down along the fragile cambers of her sleek neck; she felt lightning pulse through her veins, the pressure of a thousand sins blanketing her senses as she froze, her body sinking through his glacial proximity. Coarse lips crushed against her pulsating flesh, savouring the scent of fear surging through her bloodstream, delicate traces of jasmine lining her sweat-stricken skin.

His hands coiled around her waist, his anaconda grip cutting off her lungs in a death defying embrace, his fingers splayed out across the flat plane of her stomach. A playful thumb began toying with her navel through the cotton barricades, and with a single groan escaping her lips, sadistic smirks plastered over his tinted lips, relishing in the texture of her silk-smooth hair brushing across his left hand of fingertips trailing north. He began sketching circles across her collar bone, his rough tongue flicked out across her throat, grinning against the sudden spike of her pulse, her moans melting against the atmosphere, her words broken through her strained voice box.

Her thighs trembled ever so slightly with a tender stroke, her eyes clamped against the ersatz fantasies overpowering her lust; rasped moans once lodged in her throat ran naturally from the tip of her tongue, departing her lips with a bewildered absence of grace, mere stutters the lone sound her body could release.

"K-Kurosaki-san... What the hell are you doing?" His teeth found her earlobe inches from his previous position against her neck, nipping the flesh lightly as a silent response.

"Punishing you."

Her eyes grew wide at the blunt answer, her hands clipped against his, as her palms struggled to unclasp his death grip closing tighter around her waist; her body jolted backwards in an attempt to force him off her, as he smirked at her feeble strength, or lack-of, he should say.

"Hey, nice dry-humping," She halted in her movements as she felt a bulge push against her from behind, sudden shock washing over her as though she was a young deer caught in the headlights. He laughed once more at her shy nature, harnessing the pleasure of a life-time from her stubborn moans pleading him to stop. "As I said, I'm here to punish you for wasting my fucking time today with your precious diva act at the studio," He loosened his grip around her waist, tossing her body over his shoulder with ease, further proof of his raw strength. Realization took a few moments before it chose to sink in, as she began to kick violently and pound at his back with clenched fists, her pleading once more rambling from her mouth in protest.

Having already have memorized the layout of the suite from his own, he strode towards the bedroom located to his right, his footsteps only growing louder as they came closer, knots building in her stomach as she swallowed thickly and closed her eyes. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he released his stern hold on her hips and let the quivering body fall to a bundle against the bed.

Once more, he locked the door to ensure she wouldn't try to escape, snuffing out her pride with a soft click. Her body fell numb, unable to respond to her conscience screaming at her to move, to defend, to do anything to escape her fate, the very fate that held the demeanour of a wild feline, circling its prey from the foot of the bed. She swore for a moment she heard a low growl oscillate from his throat, startling her as it tore through the atmosphere slicker than a cold knife. Shivers crept under her sweat-stricken skin, swallowing once more as her wild daze traced his movements that stalked closer towards her with each heart-racing second.

"Please..." Finally, her body let out and allowed words to slip through the tight spaces, sobs building up at the pit of her aching throat. "You... You can't do this,"

"I can, and I will. Think of it as rehearsals for tomorrow." The mattress shifted slightly as his weight fell upon the bed, his body sinking into the smooth satin covers and his hands capturing her cheeks.

"N-No, you can't, I-"

"You came into the industry, not my problem if you can't allow yourself to have a decent fuck." His lips formed a smirk once more, latching on to the frail flesh of her neck, massaging the skin with saliva for a moment, before sinking his teeth into the mesh; whimpers sounded from her parted lips, as he retreated his attack, standing back to see the damage which lay in the form of a love bite, almost glowing red against the cream hues of her flesh. A hand trailed down the front of her chest, and like magnets, instantly attracted his skilled fingers to her swollen apex. "Besides," He continued, breathing roughly against her ear, causing her to shudder in either pleasure or pain. "Something tells me you're enjoying this more than you want to let on,"

"Kurosaki-san~" Orihime tilted her head back as his fingers tweaked through the cotton barrier, his pressure amplified with a smirk, pushing her roughly against the bed, causing the abused springs of the mattress to cast out its complaints with a harsh creak.

"This is exactly what I'm trying to hammer out of your system. It's not, Kurosaki-san, it's not Ichigo, it's Katsuo. If you dare call out any name but that tomorrow, I'll be fucking punishing you in exactly the same way as I'm about to, infront of everyone, have you got that?" Her lips pouted softly as she sucked in her breath, the fear of his threat, no promise, cutting deeper than she'd expected. She nodded vigorously, holding back the tears and stutters that had grouped together within her, closing her eyes as she tried to absorb her mind and body into a new realm. He couldn't help but smirk from her silent submission to his will, his hands grasping hold of the fabric supporting her chest, and tearing it from her flesh, watching as her breasts sprung free.

"Ku-"

He lowered his head with a hoarse growl, and grasped her apex between his canines, biting down hard so that jolts of pain surged through her; this was stage one of her punishment. She quickly got the message, and corrected herself, falling over her words in a struggle. His hands crept further until his fingertips brushed the waistband of her shorts, and beneath them, lingerie, his mouth all the while pleasuring her at the same station.

With a quick tug, he'd discarded the last of her clothes, smirking as she whined from the cold air embracing her flesh in sensitive places. She kept her legs pursed together, refusing to part them for a man who was barely an acquaintance, a stranger, she would admit to, seeing as she had only met him in person a matter of hours prior to her current, shameless state.

She gasped outright as a hand cupped her lower regions, crying out into the evening sky as she felt slender fingers break through her defences, and successfully split her thighs apart one-handed. She shivered as she felt a cold finger penetrate her deeply, ashamed at her aroused state more than she was concerned about the non-consentual sex she was about to go through.

Groans left her system as she felt his fingers curl upwards and strike a spot she didn't know existed, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted, auburn hair glistening in the light as it lay splayed across the bed sheets.

"Pl-please don't... Ah! Don't do this-" He bit down harder against her chest to combat her pleads, retrieving his finger from her cavern before placing it before her trembling lips. He raised his head an inch to meet her gaze, smirking at the evidence he'd gathered from a few minutes performing what he considered to be basic techniqued alone. He cocked an eyebrow and grinned with his infamous sarcasm leaking from his character.

"Looks like you don't want me to stop, Asami, or should I say, Kimi."

Orihime began to lash out with her feet aimed towards his face, struggling in her place, certain by now this man was more insane than he was an actor, however her defence once more came across as tempting arousal. His hands clasped on to the back of her knees, parting her thighs further as he lowered his head down towards her core, damp strands of spiked hair bristling across her bare shaven flesh.

"Now, where were we in the script?" He teased the damp folds with the bridge of his nose, pressing his lips against the sensitive flesh as vibrations sparked through her veins with each word that he spoke. "Katsuo goes down on Asami, and she screams blue murder through the pleasure she's receiving. Sound good to you?"

He smirked once more, too impatient to wait for a response, sending his tongue forward, and flicking it upwards towards her clit. Her breath became lodged in her throat for a split second, the silence soon replaced by cries of pleasure ricocheting through the room, as her moans bounced from the walls. Taking this as a sign of approval, he repeated his action, earning a whimper in response, her hands entangled in the thick strands of his burnt orange hair.

"N-No..." Her stutters left her lips once more, her head tossing from side to side as though fighting some invisible force. He sighed and lifted his head, scowling up at her as he snapped.

"Don't even try to deny it, you're enjoying this, and you know you are," She shook her head swiftly, correcting her mistakes as she continued.

"I meant no... That's not where we were in the script..." A smirk plastered his face as he realized his error, lifting his body so that it was aligned with hers, teasing her with passionate strokes of his lips.

"Then tell me... Where were we?"

"I... No... I won't tell."

"Now, now, don't be stubborn. You didn't have to correct me, I would have stopped after that, but you're right, that's not where we were in the script." Orihime chewed against her lower lip, her palms resting against his shoulders, which were still buried under the layers of his clothing, and she suddenly felt a little self-conscious due to her bare state.

"Fuck..."

"That's not a pleasant word for a hime, now is it?" She closed her eyes as she felt tears edge towards the brink of her lashes, shaking her head. "Don't make me have to punish you for two reasons now. No, we wouldn't want that, would we?"

His voice was mocking her with a fake delicate tone, her heart stumbling a beat as she considered her options. She was going to have to do this with him tomorrow, and the thought of making the same mistake shook her to the core. She had to find a way to stay in character, but could this really be the right way to do it?

"Katsuo was..." She blushed profusely and muttered the rest of the sentence silently, hoping with her fingers crossed mentally that she's get away with it.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Couldn't quite hear the end of that sentence," She stared at him in a dazed manner, unable to spit out the words that he wanted to hear the most. He shrugged, sat upright and pulled her body over his lap, resting her rear against the cold air with his hand positioned against mid-air. In blind panic, she struggled against him, completely aware of what would be coming her way judging by the position he'd laid her in. As expected, a rush of pain began sparking through her, flesh collided with flesh triggering the screams she had once built-up to rush out, stumbling and tripping over one another in a successful attempt to escape her system.

"D-did you just..." She bit against her lip to silence her whines, her flesh flaring as her face rose in hue, blushing freely in silent whimpers.

"...Spank you? Yeah," He breathed roughly, before repeating his action to draw out an even greater reaction from the actress before him. "And I'll continue to do so until you answer my question," His pace quickened, her flesh sore as his palm continued to strike her; her lungs began to call louder, until she gathered the strength to give him exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Katsuo was penetrating Asami! That... That's where we were in the script before I screwed up..." His hand hovered in the air, smirking at her sniveled state whimpering in fear, while she shied away from him. "Please, just... Don't..." She buried her face against the bedsheets, cursing herself once more as she had done previously for her rash decision in taking the job. She hadn't ever imagined it could lead to... This...

She jerked her head up upon hearing the movement of fabric sweep against muscled flesh, looking up to the actor to find him tugging his shirt over his head, his muscular physique peeking into view. After discarded the fabric to the side, he shrugged his boots from his feet, his hands clutching to his belt and began tugging at the buckle, while Orihime lay in a state of shock.

"What are you doing?" Orihime's flustered speech was in whispers, barely audiable had she casted her voice at a hushed volume; but still, her heart turned heavy as she swallowed thickly, tremors rushing through her blood like a bolt from the blue. She watched as his hands continued to undress himself, envisioning sordid reasons she prayed wouldn't come true. His hands met the waistline of navy blue shorts, a bulge pressing out and peering into view as the fabric descended from its original position. "Kurosaki-san..."

Without warning, he smirked and launched his body towards hers, pinning her down effectively, forcing the pressure of his muscular weight as he eliminated the use of her arms on the offchance she'd struggle beneath him. Her chest became constricted against the bedsheets, as she was caught by his resilient forearms capturing her; he trusted the weight of his chest crushing against her back to keep her pinned down, his hands trailing across her curves as they grasped hold of her rear. He positioned himself at the entrance of her core, before thrusting in deep, eliciting her yelps and cries strongly.

"Ku-Kurosaki-san!" He scoffed at her moans, drawing himself out before driving himself deeper, his nails burying into the flesh of her rear to punish her for her mistake.

"You still won't learn, will you?" His voice was laced with venom, a new side of the actor that she had never expected to exist, his violent character continuing to thrust in alternating pressures while her moans shattered the atmosphere. Her nails found the bedsheets as she tried to muffle her cries against the fabrics beneath her, swallowing the pain she felt overwhelm her.

"I warned you. You will get the name right. And I will continue to punish you until you do."

"No... Please, Kurosaki-san, stop!" He blanked her pleads for mercy, and continued to increase the momentum and speed of his thrusts all the while without breaking a sweat or uttering a single groan of pleasure. "Kurosaki-san..." His thrusts seemed to get stronger, faster and deeper each time she cried our his true name, as though his temper was running on a short fuse, swiftly growing irritated with her consistent error.

Over time, his movements appeared to run like a blur, a vein pulsing against his forehead as he became all the more frustrated with the woman bent double before him; the suite had already joined in with their lines to the composition, the bedframe attacking the wall viciously, bedsprings crying out in pain from their abuse, all sounds joined in with Orihime's moans, all reaching out together for a crescendo, for a climax. But he wouldn't let her have the satisfaction. Not once had his character's name left her parted lips, and he soon found himself doubting that she was even treating this as her punishment. He found himself only left with one option.

With a delicate blink, his rough demeanour soon evaporated, his exterior layers melting away as a passionate character soon possessed him. Molten chocolate filled his rimmed gaze, pleading with his wife to seek mercy on his butchered heart. His lips curved up, the cupid's bow forming a tender heart shape across his smile as he leaned down to kiss the woman he cherished. Orihime found herself melting away into his gaze, captured by his charm as confusion swept over her.

"Asami, please... Why do you keep calling out this other man's name? You married me, did you not? Have I really changed that much for you to hate me?" She blinked up at his sudden change of character, feeling his thrusts slow to a human pace, one that was built on the foundation of a lifetime of passion and trust. "Do you not love me, Kimi?" His voice became hoarse, and for a split second, she swore tears had formed in his swelling eyes. Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach, her inner character reaching out to grasp hold of her consciousness.

"Katsuo..."

"Great, hold on to that thought," With a cheshire cat grin, he returned to his previous pace, startling her with the sudden change in pressure. Her moans continued to ascend towards the skies with the compilation of pleasure and pain coursing through her, cursing him silently as she understood the trick he had played to draw out the name he desired. She fell desperate to clutch on to something to keep her pride in-tact, knowing by now that if she had any neighbours, that there was not a sound that they wouldn't have detected through the paper-thin walls.

"Please... Katsuo..." She whimpered each word separately with heavy breaths inbetween as she grew close to her climax, embracing the comfort of the crumpled bed sheets beneath her; sweat laced her skin as her breathing became choked by graceful moans, feeling the warmth slowly fade from inside her while he pulled out. As though possessed by her character, her climax grew louder and marched towards the heavens, and like a firework, exploded in the dusk sky, scattering burning embers across the ground that sizzled against her warm flesh.

She panted breathless for a while, curling up into a ball as she felt the cold air rest upon her with a sudden chill, lifting her gaze at the man mocking her with his sly, slick smirks. He'd began to redress himself, heading towards the mirror nailed to the wall opposite the bed to fix his hair once fully clothed; he caught a glimpse of her scowl in the reflection of the glass, holding his middle finger up the mirror, knowing that the profanity would reflect from the glass and strike her.

"Just do the same tomorrow, and we won't have any problems, will we?"

She blushed and held her head down in shame, gathering the bedsheets around her torso as she felt guilt ride over her like a relentless wave.

"You're an ass," She spat back, turning her body away from his figure as she crossed her arms over her hidden breasts; he crept up behind her, snaking a hand to cup her porcelain face, not bothering to handle her carefully as you might a doll, but instead gripped her roughly like one built of rags.

"You seemed to like it," He murmured, grinning before sinking his teeth against her lower lip, drawing the faintest of blood before slinking away, seeing himself out before she had a chance to retaliate. All she could do was sigh, and sink against the bed that was stained with nothing but her sin of lust. She let her gaze hover over the ground where her torn clothes lay, her eyes growing wide as anger built up inside her.

"You ass! You owe me new clothes!"


End file.
